


Codas

by goldberry-in-the-rushes (thepottermalfoyproblem)



Series: Songs [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Birthdays, Dain's wife is a badass, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, absolutely bullshitted martial arts, gratuitous khuzdul use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:57:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepottermalfoyproblem/pseuds/goldberry-in-the-rushes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of short works that fall within my Songs universe. They will be added to periodically, whenever I write anything worth posting.</p><p>Since the first work is a present for Poplitealqueen, I dedicate this entire collection to her. Especially since she feeds the monster which is my vast collection of headcanons. XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Codas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poplitealqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poplitealqueen/gifts).



> For Poplitealqueen  
> On the occasion of her birthday  
> \-----  
> Dain arrives home from a long journey to the Orocarni mountains, just in time for his wife's birthday.

Dark shadows of night were just starting to spread across the eastern sky when the dusty caravan rumbled through the gates of Zirun’tuslû, one of many strongholds that dotted the surface of the Iron Hills. At the front of the caravan, a stocky figure leapt down from the back of his boar-mount, the sound of metal against stone ringing through the courtyard.

“Easy now, _Ibrizinlêkh_.” Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills, fondly patted the rump of his boar and trailed a hand gently up her side to scratch at the rough bristles on her head. She huffed grumpily at him as he handed her off to a waiting page. “Ach, ye picky creature. Ya know I’d ordinarily take care of ye meself, but I’ve got important things to do this evenin’. I’ll make it up t’ya. Apples or somethin’.”

The massive creature huffed again, less grumpy this time, and dutifully followed the page towards the stables. Dain grinned after her before stamping good-naturedly towards the residential district deeper within the stronghold. At the end of a long-broad tunnel, he quietly let himself through an unassuming door that opened into his family’s relatively spacious home. No one in the Iron Hills had much elbow room, but being a noble had some perks.

Dain often joked that it was the consolation prize for more responsibility.

Not three steps into the entrance hall, a screeching mass bowled Dain over and they toppled into a pile of limbs and hair. Increasingly loud shouts of “Adad! Adad!” rang directly into Dain’s ear and he ineffectually signed “help me” at the two figures smirking in the farther doorway.

Donni and Askad, his son’s sometimes caretakers, looked at each other and shrugged. Ignoring the plight of Dain’s poor ears, Donni picked at the end of one of her braids as she spoke. “Were the Orocarni’s so boring that you returned early? We weren’t expecting you til next week, m’lord.”

Askad, a little more understanding, scooped the dwarfling up off his father. Thorin, the third of his name, stuck out his tongue and blew an undignified raspberry in the direction of his assailant. “We’d have helped Thorin plan a better ambush if we had, for one,” Askad said as he set said dwarfling back on the ground. Perhaps… not as understanding as first assumed.

Dain took the moment of relative freedom as an opportunity to haul himself back upright, bracing himself against the returned onslaught of his son.

“It’s good to see you too, _‘Ubnabunê._ It’s late though, shouldn’t ye be in bed?” He ruffled Thorin’s hair, ginger curls standing out even after Dain removed his hand.

“I was in bed, Adad! Donni was telling me fairy tales and everything!” Thorin giggled and darted out of reach as Dain’s fingers found his ribs.

Donni leveled Dain with a baleful stare. “We just calmed him down, too.”

Askad, who had retreated to the wall and was picking at his nails, raised an eyebrow. “We? I think you mean you, Donni. I had nothing to do with it.”

The dwarrowdam mockingly glared at her friend and then held out a hand to Thorin. “Come on then, lad. Say goodnight to your da and let’s get you back to bed.”

Dain’s son looked positively mutinous, but dutifully kissed his da on the cheek and then trotted after Donni down the hall.

In the absence of a loud squirmy dwarfling, Dain turned to Askad. “Since the two of ya are here, I guess my wife isn’t?”

Askad, who had traded picking at his nails to dismantling a piece of string fibre by fibre, didn’t look up when he spoke. “Yeah, we gave her the night off, seeing as it’s her birthday and all. I think she headed for the training yards. You might catch her there if you hurry. Donni and I can hold down the fort a while longer, a dwarfling barely seventeen can hardly be a match for us.” He glanced up with a grin, and Dain caught the glint of amber eyes underneath auburn hair before the dwarrow returned to his work.  

Dain laughed, “I’m sure you can at that, Hethra has excellent judge of character and ability.”

Askad snorted, “You say this, and yet she left _me_ in charge of a kid.”

“She had her reasons.” Dain steeled himself to stand back up off the floor, no small task with his prosthetic. Askad dropped his shredded string in a pocket and held out a hand. Grasping it gratefully, Dain hauled himself upright. “I’d best be off then.”

“Mmhmm… she’s a dwarrowdam I wouldn’t keep waiting.”

\-----

The training yards weren’t far from the residential quarter, nestled in a cavern with a collapsed roof that let sunlight in during the day. Now moonlight trickled through the open roof and spilled across the sandy floor. Alone in the middle of the space, a single figure went through her sparring paces. Light glinted off the golden caps that covered the ends of her numerous braids as she flowed from one stance to the next.

Dain leaned against the doorway and watched, shaking his head fondly as he noted the haphazard pile of clothes by his feet. He could tell she had long ago shed her outer layers, probably scoffing at “Longbeard sensitivities,” in favor of her usual sparring gear, loose light pants and strips of cloth about her chest. She said she could move faster and easier without the useless weight of heavy gear to drag her down.

Dain didn’t doubt it, though he preferred heavy armor and belonged to the fighting school of “hit it until something makes a crunching noise.”

From out in the yard, Hethra called to him without turning around. “Are you going to stand there all night, Dain? Or are you going to come get your sorry butt handed to you on a silver platter?”

Dain grinned, “You looked content, so I was going to let you be.” His grin faltered a big when she waved a hand in his direction.

“You don’t get off that easy, my friend. Get your heavy gear off, you’re just in time for the _Nûlukh’narut_.” She kept talking as Dain mock-groaned and stripped off his layers of leathers and heavy tunics. “I wasn’t expecting you until next week, _Makartûn_. What happened?”

Dain kicked off his boot and padded across the sandy yard, facing Hethra and mirroring her stance, _aznân'af_ , a relatively relaxed starting position. He followed his wife’s movements as he spoke. “Your parents happened, that’s what. They were appalled that my advisors had sent me without you, especially over your birthday. Sent me back early, with presents and everything.”

A different dwarrow probably would have worried that the next words out of Hethra’s mouth were “I hope they sent me some new sand-etched blades”, but Dain had known her for far too long to be surprised. And he was trying not to fall over as she shifted effortlessly between stances. Dain was panting heavily, and yet the only indication of effort on Hethra’s part were the small beads of sweat dotting her dark shoulders.

The sparring sequence, named for the phases of the moon, was a favorite of Hethra’s. It required a set of partners, acting in mirror of one another, moving faster and faster with each sequence repetition until one acted out of turn. Then the sequence would start to slow before finishing in _aznân'af_ again. Mistakes usually ended in bruises. Correction, Dain usually had bruises. He had only learned the _Nûlukh’narut_ when no one else would spar with Hethra.

There was a reason he fondly called her _Magardûna_ , she who is feared.

Speaking of which, Dain stumbled over air and Hethra landed a solid kick to his gut. He grunted in pain and sat down hard, puffs of sand billowing around him. Looking up at Hethra blearily, he saw her frowning in concern.

“You came here straight from the gates didn’t you?” she held out her hand to pull Dain to his feet.

“Ah, I stopped by home first. Ran into two of your _sakâd_ , they had just managed to wrangle Thorin into bed.” Dain gratefully took Hethra’s hand, wincing as he finally stood again.

“Donni and Askad offered me a needed respite.” Hethra clapped Dain on the shoulder before walking back over to the pile of discarded clothing and pulling a thin tunic over her head. “But I think we’ve left them with the terror long enough. Let’s go save them, and then we can see what my parents sent me. Knowing them, I suspect there may even be some of my favorite mead packed in with more practical gifts.”

Without waiting for an answer, the dwarrowdam strode off down the hall, Dain cursing good-naturedly and tugging on his boot before he hurried after her.

Despite the ache in his belly from her earlier kick, he managed to catch up and gently bumped against her shoulder with his own.

“Happy birthday, Hethra.”

The small huff of breath and amused shake of the head was all the answer Dain needed to know his wife, and lifelong best friend, was happy.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Characters:**  
>  Donni – a dwarrowdam who is certainly more than she seems. Very shady.  
> Askad – Donni’s ever-present companion, the undercover version of one shady starfish-headed dwarf we all know and love.
> 
>  **Khuzdul:**  
>  Tuslû – settlement of  
> Zirun – Iron  
> Ibrizinlêkh – sunshine  
> 'ubnabunê – my tiny stone (could be translated as “gem” or “pebble”. Dain nicknamed Thorin II “Pebble”)  
> Nûlukh – moon  
> Narut – turns of  
> Nûlukh’narut – turns of the moon (a sequence of stances in Orocarni martial arts)  
> Makartûn – He who is trusted. Hethra calls Dain this in leau of standard dwarven spousal addresses, since they tend to center around romantic notions. It comes from the fact that she trusts that he will never abuse his position as her husband.  
> Magardûna – She who is feared. Dain calls Hethra this in leau of standard spousal addresses. He calls her this because he finds her utterly terrifying.  
> aznân'af – New Moon (the starting stance for the Nûlukh’narut sequence, exactly like Tadasana in Yoga)  
> sakâd – shadows, the “semi-official” name of members of Hethra’s spy network.
> 
> A Note on Hethra and Dain:  
> Hethra and Dain's marriage is purely political, and they had their son from duty under pressure from Dain's advisors. Though they are fond of one another, their relationship is purely platonic since Hethra is Asexual Aromantic. They are best of friends though, and Hethra will mess you up if you mess with Dain.


End file.
